


Weep Not For The...

by Missy



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Character of Color, Crack, F/M, Flashback, Humor, Introspection, Memories, Porn Battle, Smut, Temptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterling Archer isn't exactly known for his focus or his magnanimous nature.  No wonder Lana cherishes the memory of the one time he was generous with her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weep Not For The...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XI: Prompt: Archer, Archer/Lana, temptation

She remembers Tel Aviv. They had been very young and very drunk, and wearing a thong made out of Sweet Tarts (it was a complicated cover and no, she’d rather not go into the details). There had been an argument and he’d asked her if she wanted to make up ‘the way they do in the harems of Franzistan’.

Lana knews that there was no damn Franzistan, but making up was preferable to listening to Archer whine throughout the trip to New York.

What followed was twelve hours of tantric sex, a total of effort and focus that was so unlike him she was positive that he’d hired some impersonator to seduce her. By the third hour she stopped caring about anything but his cock pounding into her as hard and quickly as they could manage it.

It's still a day of pure wonderment to her – a total Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole fuck. How he managed to get his cock into her ass while he sucked on her toes, she didn’t know; she was too busy trying to keep her chin in the harness and her ass in the air.

And she didn’t remember how the ping-pong paddle and the feather duster had gotten involved until she saw the video tape several days later.

Hindsight arrived with the morning sun. Lana cherished that night as proof he actually cared about her…for about six days. Then she consigned it to the mental trash heap of Ways Sterling Could Have Been The Love Of Her Life Instead Of Blowing Her Off To Oggle An Eighteen Year Old Swedish Tennis Pro.

No, it couldn’t have lasted; but sometimes, she looks at him and the desire rolls in over her all over again, accompanied by a wave of nice, hot, tempting memories. She can deal with it, though, as the memory of Sterling is preferable to the act of spending five minutes talking to him alone.

For now.


End file.
